


Corrupted

by ArcMages



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Gen, Past Child Abuse, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 19:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17814305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcMages/pseuds/ArcMages
Summary: — ON HOLD❝ Being special is supposed to be a gift! ❞❝ The world will NEVER accept us. ❞A new band poses a great threat to the idol industry.For they're snakes with a lethal bite.But every villain has a story of misery and grief. And purity.





	1. Melancholy

The white flurries fell delicately to the ground, barely swaying. Even in the night's dusk, the snowflakes were still visible since their pale color contrasted with the dark surroundings. A thin blanket of snow overlapped the park all around, coating the trees, leaves, rock-patched ground, and benches. All except for the lake located in the center which was just starting to freeze into ice. Glowing yellow lanterns illuminated certain parts of the park which was completely empty of people, giving it a lonely feel. For what purpose did lights serve if no one was there to acknowledge them? 

No one, except for the group of four young boys that gathered in a small area of the park which was lowly lit. They blended in with the shadows, nobody else could see them besides each other. But they could see other people who passed by across from the park by the entrance, from couples who walked with their fingers intertwined to teenage friends who walked in large groups. Even small kids ran past, blowing on their hands while chasing snowflakes. No matter what age, they all seemed to be enjoying themselves. Especially the children.

The only sound that could be heard was the growling of vehicles which passed by. The sound of water from the lake had become quieter and quieter as the winter came along. No birds were on the move, they had all migrated away to somewhere warmer.

Where ever this warm place was, the four boys wanted to go. They wished they could follow the birds and migrate somewhere else away and escape the chills of winter. But these youths have realized reality too early for their age. No such thing was possible. So they stayed here in Tokyo, hiding along the alleys and abandoned areas, taking advantage of the shadows. They have learned to survive and cope without parents. They had become independent. 

One born with privilege might call them savages, homeless children who refused the help of adults and the government. Instead of getting help, they ran and hid. They had mastered the art of theft from shoplifting to pickpocketing. So they weren't completely empty pocketed. They had some money on them. But it wasn't enough to put a roof over their head. It wasn't even enough for the slightest touch of warmth.

Sitting outside in the frosty park at night, they silently watched the passing vehicles go by. One thing they shared together was that they all wanted a car. A car meant freedom to go anywhere, even away from the cold. But they all knew, the day would never come. But something they shared that they knew was absolutely out of their reach would be their dream. A dream of fame and recognition. 

Spare time was basically all the time they had. There was no school nor work for them. Often, they would spend their time together enjoying music in the only way they could: Singing, songwriting, and dancing. They could not afford any instruments.

And that's what they often did at night. 

One of the boys who had minty-green-hair stood up from the bench. He wore a black and white stripped long-sleeve shirt that fitted well with his small body. He still had the shoes that he wore his ever since leaving the household. This one was the youngest of the quartet. The other three turn their heads, watching him as he rests his arms against the railing before the park lake. He closes his eyes and lets out a soft note into the air, puffs from his warm breath escaped along with it.

Another male with sharper features and deep red hair, around the age of 12, stood up after him. He approached the smaller boy and without warning, gave him an aggressive whack on the back, cutting the note off.

The green-haired boy glared at the other with his cat-like golden eyes, "Touma. What was that for?"

Touma let out a laugh, he then smiled and stood next to his friend. "Really, Isumi. You call that a musical note?"

"Huh?! Like you can do any better." Isumi huffed. 

"Of course I can." Touma smirked, bringing on a challenge. 

This caused Isumi to scowl at the older male. The two often bickered even though their personalities were quite similar. They both had this arrogance that clashed against each other. Touma had a thing for teasing Isumi but unfortunately, the younger boy didn't take it as such.

Off in the back, the other two boys sighed in sync. They then stood up and joined their fellow friends. 

"You two, always at it aren't you." The oldest male with long and messy brown hair commented, catching Isumi and Touma's attention. He kept his hands in the back pocket of his baggy jeans and constantly wore some sort of confident grin.

The other boy with shoulder-length cream-colored hair and a thin frame had both of his hands behind his back. His feminine-like features corresponded smoothly with his more introverted personality. He didn't say anything and kept near the oldest male, trailing behind him a bit. While his head tilted downwards, his eyes kept up at his friends.

"Torao, this idiot think's he's better than me," Isumi said and rolled his eyes. He doesn't let go of the railing.

"Oi - Idiot?!" Touma barked back at him. Though whether he was really offended or not wasn't clear.

"You heard me!" Isumi spat.

"Shut it!" Torao almost shouted. And indeed, they had both zipped their quarrel on the spot. After all, Torao was the largest and the oldest so they assumed him the leader of the group. "Let's not have any adults hear you two and report us to the police as wandering children."

"Yeah. . . We have to be careful." The cream-haired boy said. He spoke turning his head a bit off to the side, not making eye-contact.

"So you too Minami, huh. Alright." Touma crossed his arms, admitting defeat. 

The last thing they four wanted was to be separated. All it took was a single policeman to gather them at the station and then send them off to an orphanage where they could all be adopted separately. That was their nightmare. Despite having frequent arguments, their friendship held together strong. They knew the only way to avoid this nightmare was to appear as the common neighborhood children who were simply hanging out. If a dispute broke out, it would draw attention to them, putting risk.

They all turned their heads to face Isumi, who didn't respond. He had his head rested in his palm and leaned against the railing, looking out onto the half-frozen lake. Typical of him to act as if he didn't care.

The other three watched as he parted his lips and puffed out his warm breath. There was a moment of silence before he spoke. "Don't you guys wish for a normal life?"

". . .Of cour -" Minami started.

But he was cut off by Touma. "There's no point in wishing for something that won't ever be a reality."

Torao nodded in agreement. "Touma's right. It doesn't matter what we wish for."

Isumi buried his face in his hands in distress. He voice shook slightly as he spoke. He tried to hold back the tears. He couldn't help but to shout his next words. "But being special is supposed to be a gift!"

"Isumi, calm down. . !" Minami put a hand on his friend's back to calm him. He felt it tremble.

But Touma wasn't so kind. In frustration, he kicked the back of Isumi's left leg, who flinched in response. "Goddamnit! Why do you have to bring it up?! We know a gift supposed to be a good thing. . . The world will NEVER accept us!"

Torao placed a hand on Touma's chest which stops him from saying anymore. His lips curved downwards slightly. There was no doubt, he reciprocated Isumi's feelings but he managed to hold himself together. "Isumi."

Isumi wiped the tears off from his eyes before turning around and facing the oldest. Minami stood next to him, his fingers bumping each other nervously.

Torao's eyes gazed directly into Isumi's as he said, "There's been nothing negative about my life since the day I was born."

The other three gave him confused looks.

"Something is negative only if you make it that way," he continued. "So if you want to make your life miserable by thinking of it that way, then so be it. But Touma is right, the world will never accept us. But at the least, you must learn to accept yourself."

Isumi pursed his lips and furrowed his brows, making some sort of pouty face. His voice lowered. "If I accepted myself, everyone else around me would die."

Touma snickered, "Well not like it matters, right? They would want us dead too."

Torao and Minami both shot him a look which told him to cut it out.

Isumi slammed his hands onto the railing, making a clank sound. He jumped onto the elevated bar at the bottom and pulled himself forwards so his body hovered over the frozen lake. He let out a smooth, high note. His voice rang throughout the empty park, slipping past every snowflake with ease. It could've been loud enough to read past the park gates and towards the shops.

His three friends let out gasps of shock. Touma thrusted his hand out and grabbed Isumi by the shirt, suddenly pulling him backwards. "YOU IDIOT!" He shouted as he pulled Isumi close to his face.

"What?! I have to accept myself! - My gift!" Isumi growled at him.

"What if someone else was around?!" Touma retaliated. He just about ready to throw a punch at the male who was getting on every single one of his nerves.

"There's no one!"

"How do you know that!"

"ENOUGH!" Torao grabbed the two and separated them, pulling them apart. He glared down at Isumi, "I don't mean for you to be reckless. I don't mean for you to put others in danger because of your negligence."

Isumi grabbed his head and fell down on his bottom to the snowy ground. He slammed his eyes shut, placed his hands on his ears and let out a sob. Tears flowed from eyes without any blockade, nothing to hold them back.  Agony consumed his heart from the inside to out. He couldn't control himself. 

Minami bit his lips, trying to hold back the contagious tears but he couldn't. They fell from the corners of his eyes as he cried silently with his friend. He didn't say anything since for now, he was a boy of little words and confidence. But at least, he let out his bottled-up grief.

"You two. . . Stop crying." Touma clenched his fists. But he also had left a single tear slip.

The four huddled together, spreading a bit of warmth to each other in the cold. But the cold didn't bother them so much, since their melancholy had distracted them from it. A broken heart hurt more than just a simple frost.

 

And little did they know that this one night would change everything for them. Little did they know, their fate would be altered. 

A man with short, dark purple hair was stood at the entrance of the park, watching them. He had his arms crossed, his smile was grim and ambitious. 

But he wasn't only watching the four boys. He also had his attention on a pair of twin boys across the street from the park in front of a series of shops. One had red hair and the other with a light pink. The red-haired boy had collapsed to the ground. And after a few minutes of a crowd gathering to help him, an ambulance had pulled up and medics carefully laid him onto the cot. The pale-haired twin stepped into the ambulance, crying aloud. Once the doors were closed, the ambulance drove off and headed for the hospital.

The edge of the man's lips curved upwards. He let out a chuckle of amusement. 

"I've found them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I choose to use Haruka's last name simply bc it is my preference. Please don't mind it.


	2. Misfortune

_Do ghosts visit their own graves?_

A gray, stone-carved grave rested upon the dry dirt. It was autumn, the crisp and chilly wind blew through the short cream-colored hair of an apathetic-eyed teen. It carried his breath throughout the maze of dull graves and bare tree branches. Looking from afar, these graves are all exactly the same. They all served the same purpose. Up close, it's still the same. So really, what purpose does such an insignificant mass of graves serve?

_No. Ghosts do not visit their own graves. Graves are for living, not the dead._

The teen's shadow overlapped the grave in which he stood before. The flowers he had left in front of it a few years back when he last visited were no longer there. They probably shriveled up and crumbled away into dust to rot, eventually blown away like ashes. And at other neighboring graves, were more flowers in the same process.

_What an ugly sight._

That day, he didn't bring flowers. He didn't bring anything. Not even sympathy.

So why did he come to visit? Even he's not sure. He didn't want to be here, to be reminded. 

It was the voice that brought him here. The voice of his dead mother which cried in the back of his head. Her screams and shrieks. 

And upon hearing it, he found himself back into the dreaded past.

 

* * *

 

"Why. . . Why did it have to turn out this way?" A woman's voice whined. It was his mother.

A young boy stood at the corner of the kitchen with his head down as he watched his mother cry in distress into her husbands chest. He wore long sleeves, long pants, socks, gloves, a beanie, a face mask. . . The only part of him that wasn't covered was his neck. The newspaper loosely fell to the floor from her hand. It opened on the page which she had read. The headline read that a young girl in elementary school had died from poison found in her heart.

The boy in the corner knew how that girl had died, he was there. He remembered it clearly. After all, he was the one who caused it. But he hadn't meant to. It was all an accident. But for him, accidents were never excused. His parents knew it too, and they couldn't handle it. This wasn't the first time, perhaps it was the third or fourth. And they couldn't handle it anymore, the burden that their son killed people. And that society would never deem him guilty, because the truth was too unbelievable.

The older man attempted to hush her, trying to calm her down. After she managed to rid the last of her tears, she shot a disgusted glare at the boy in the corner.

"Minami. . . You did this. . ! You're ruining my life! You're ruining everyone's life around you!" She spat.

The boy doesn't say anything. He kept his head down, his eyes trailing the floor. Suddenly, a force on his neck suffocated him, his feet dangle in the air, losing balance. He brought his gloved hands up to the shirt collar at his jaw, trying to loosen the grip. He gasped for air desperately.

"Be careful!" He heard his mother shout.

"We need to get rid of his kid," his father growled behind him, "We can't risk ourselves anymore to raise a curse."

"But, what are we going to do?" Her voice trembled.

The small boy kicked the air recklessly, he tried to scream but he couldn't. Giving up on trying to let the air in, he turned his head back and slid out of the shirt, landing on his behind onto the cold, tiled floor. With his porcelain skin now exposed, his parents stepped back, their eyes widened with fear.

"Don't come any closer!" The father barked. His hands swiped a kitchen knife which lay on the counter next to the stove. He held it out in front of him.

The boy got up on his feet, his bottom lip trembled. He wanted to scream for help, but he knew, he couldn't afford to risk anyone else. Even so, that no one would have heard him. He shook his head and ran in the opposite direction, up the stairs where he darted into his room and slammed the door closed. But the door had no lock. He stood in the middle of the room, which stood bare of any belongings besides a bed and a desk, and watched the door. This was room he was raised in for his whole life. The room he stayed in, bored out of his mind while his parents downstairs would forget about him as they had romantic dinners and watched TV together. The room where he ate his meals in silence whenever he got one. The room where he talked to himself in hopes of gaining a single friend.

Heavy thumps could be heard from the stairs, they echoed throughout the halls. He recognized it to be his father's footsteps. And soon after, the man shouted with such rage in his voice, "MINAMI!"

The boy jumped at the call of his own name in such a tone. It wasn't often when his parents referred to him on such a personal level and each time, it caught him off guard. It even gave him a brink of hope, even at this moment where everything seemed to be coming to an end. His skinny legs shook as he tried to hold them to the ground. Each second was a stab in the chest, it killed him.

The door swung open and crashed on the wall, creating a thunderous bang. His father stood at the door with the knife in one hand. "I can't have you running about," he growled. "So be good and stay put for me, will you?"

With such effort, through the tight squeeze of his throat, Minami managed to whisper. "Pl - Please, d - don't hurt me. . . Father." He held his hands out in front of him, not as a threat, but for a desperate way to protect himself.

But his father ignored him. He pointed the knife at the boy's hands, "Put down your hands, right now. I won't allow you to defy me, you pest."

But the boy doesn't put down his hands. Instead, he repeated the same word, 'please' over and over again, begging and begging for his father to put down the knife. He promised that he would never go outside the house ever again, that he would remain invisible for the rest of his life. Just as long as he could live.

Neither of them oblige each other. His father took a step forward, coming in closer. The room was small, so there was little space to run. Minami felt more trapped and cornered, like a preyed on animal which served no other purpose than to be hunted. And the ferocious predator? It was his own father.

With the man now up close, within a few inches of him, he tensed. His father held up the knife, his eyes fierce with anger and hatred. But Minami doesn't give himself up. Just as the knife is brought down, aiming for his small chest, he shot himself off to the side. Something he had that his father did not was agility, and he used it to his advantage. The man let out a gasp as he recovered from the swing of his arm. Minami threw off the gloves which hid his hands and reached out for his father's arm which held the knife.

"I'm sorry!!" He screamed and clutched his father's wrist, attempting to hold it back from moving anymore.

His father froze in his movements. His eyes edged to the boy's hands and in absolute horror. Sweat poured down the side of his face. His breaths hastened, his body started to shake.

Minami's grip slipped as he watched his father's body slump onto the floor, causing a loud thump. He stepped backwards to the door. His hands were brought up to his mouth in fright. "No. . ."

The man grunted, his fingers clawed at the floor. He seemed to be trying to get back up. But his legs couldn't move. He wheezed, he choked. The knife was now at the tips of his fingers.

A series of thumps sounded as his mother ran up the stairs, calling her husband's name. She stopped at the door and let out a terrified scream at the sight.

Minami flinched at the sudden screech, he put his hands to his eyes and cried out, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I was scared. . !"

But his mother didn't listen. Of course she didn't. She just looked at him with eyes pierced in rage. She looked at him like he was a monster. And maybe he was one. Her hands clenched, her entire body tensed. She couldn't hold herself back. Tears poured down her face.

"Please, don't come close!" Minami begged as he took a step back between his now-dead father's sprawled out legs. "I - I don't want to h - hurt you too!"

"I'll end you! NOW!" The woman screamed. She then thrusted her arms forward and snatched Minami by the neck, tightening her grip on it, choking him.

But this only lasted for a mere two seconds. Her hold on him abruptly came to and end and she collapsed to the floor. Minami's body lurched forward, he took in a heavy gasp to regain the air. His neck felt sore, it burned.

His mother's arm laid on the floor, her fingers twitched in attempt to reach for Minami. But she couldn't. Then, it came to a stop. Her body was still. She was dead.

Both of his parents were dead. And he was the cause of it all. Their anger, their stress, their fear, their deaths. Tears streamed down his face, he cried aloud but it hurt his throat to. He cried so hard, he couldn't breath.

"Mother, Father. . . I'm sorry!!"

 

* * *

 

Minami took in a deep breath. He took one last look at the grave which read the names of his parents. He had killed them with his own curse, born with a poisonous touch which either killed or harmed anyone, depending on how emotional he was at the moment. This was why, he had learned to keep the same face, to hold back how he truly felt. And in protection of others, he consistently wore clothes that covered his skin. Most of his body, except for his neck area. Occasionally, his hands would be exposed, but that was only when he was around his other three friends.

Isumi, Torao, and Touma. They too, were also born with the curse of poison. Touma and Isumi could inflict poison on anyone of their choice with their singing voices. But at this age, they were still learning how to control it. Unfortunately, that brought on a few sacrifices. Both Torao and Minami were born with a poisonous touch, one which intensified with emotion. Torao had mastered holding back his emotions at an early age, unlike Minami. He was still in the process of locking up the past and leaving it behind. 

For all of them, the danger of the poison depended on their emotions. When distressed or angered, their abilities became deadlier. However, the poison was nullified against one another, for one already poisoned could not deepen the damage. 

Minami shook his head, and headed off in the opposite direction, towards the exit of the graveyard. "Why am I even here. . ." he muttered. With his hands buried in the pockets of his coat, he let out a sigh of annoyance upon seeing his friend at the gate.

The green-haired teen stood in a black and white striped sweater with his arms crossed. He leaned against the black car which they had rode in to arrive here. Isumi had insisted on joining him to cure his 'boredom' but really, Minami knew, the guy probably secretly worried for him. Of course, neither of them would never admit it.

"Are you done moping around now?" Isumi rolled his eyes. "You barely spent 5 minutes in there."

"Hm, I'd gladly stay here for much longer and have you wait an extra hour." Minami replied back with a smile across his face.

After he had left the house, he had met his three friends which all spoke with a gruffness in their voices which was caused by their anger towards society and their pasts. Minami was the only one in the group who spoke softly and had a sense of timidness. Eventually, their aggressive habits had rubbed off on him. While now, he still wasn't the type of boy who fought for dominance and strength, but he managed the arts of 'not giving a shit' as they called it.

Being the least masculine of the group, he had faced hardships when it came to the company which took them in and promised them a better life. But it wasn't nearly as bad as what they had all faced in the past. He wasn't likely to start a fight like the other guys were, instead he made remarks off to the side and kept a consistent mischievous smile on his face. All the sadness and grief he held within, was hidden.

"I'd just tell the driver to take me back and leave you behind." Isumi opened the door, allowing Minami to enter in first.

"What a gentleman you are. Thank you," he teased as he entered into the car.

"Shut up. I just like the right side." Isumi muttered and followed him in, shutting the door.

Along the car ride back to the company's headquarters, the two didn't talk. Minami sat elegantly with his hands held together and back straight. Isumi had a tendency to rest his chin in his hand and stare out the window. They both had a head full of personal thoughts which sometimes they would burst out to each other but as they grew older, they had learned to keep it more to themselves. 

In a sense, it didn't any provide any benefits to do such. Instead, it kept their feelings bottled up inside, which only built up over time. Regardless, the bond between the four never even flickered. But Minami knew, one day it would lead to disaster.


End file.
